Happy Birthday
by Fae2135
Summary: Another year older, another year wiser, or so people say. But is it true? A series of short oneshots of Elphaba on various birthdays. Musicalverse. Fiyeraba in chapter 7. COMPLETE!
1. What's A Birthday?

**A/N: An idea that was inspired by the fact that there are six days until my birthday. This is going to be seven very short chapters long, and for once, **_**they're all already written!**_** I will be posting one a day from now until next Wednesday, May 2, a.k.a. my birthday.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, my plan to steal the Grimmerie and magick Greg, Winnie, and Steve to give me the rights fell through, so I still do not own Wicked.**

**xXxXx**

I watch as people come to our house carrying gifts, as they seem to do every year on this day. It's never puzzled me before, but now, at five years old, I'm old enough to wonder what's happening. I can hear the sounds of a party going on downstairs, but Papa has sent me up to my room with strict instructions not to even think about coming down until all the guests are gone. Confined to the second floor of the Governor's Mansion, my busy mind demands that I go in search of some answers. So I hunt down a servant who's dusting in Nessa's bedroom.

"Anseida, why are all those people here?" I ask, climbing up to perch on my sister's bed and dangle my legs over the side.

The maid glances up at me in surprise. "Well, it's your sister's birthday, Miss," she says, as though that's explanation enough.

"What's a birthday?"

The maid gives me an odd look, but explains, "Well, it's the anniversary of the day you were born. Your family and friends all come to help you celebrate turning a year older."

I ponder this for a few moments. "Does everyone have a birthday?"

"Indeed they do, Miss."

"Do you have a birthday?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Do _I_ have a birthday?"

"Of course you do, silly!" the maid laughs. "What makes you ask such a thing?"

"Well, you said a birthday is when your family and friends come to celebrate the day you were born. But nobody ever comes to celebrate my birthday with me. Not like they do for Nessa. And after what you said, I just thought maybe it was because I didn't have one."

With that, I hop down off the bed and wander away to entertain myself in my own tiny room down the hall. Nessa deserves to have a birthday, with lots of presents and guests. She is the pretty one, the special one. But just for a moment, I find myself wishing that maybe someday I can have a birthday, too.

**xXxXx**

**Like it? Hate it? Let me know, or my Elphie muse might get angry… and we all know what happens when she gets angry…**


	2. Ten

**A/N: Behold, chapter two! Warning: angst ahead. And THE SITE ALERTS ARE WORKING AGAIN! Huzzah!**

**Disclaimer: Yes, I own Wicked… and I'm also the Queen of England and have more money than J.K. Rowling. (And if you people couldn't tell that was sarcasm, you REALLY need to hang out more with Elphaba.)**

**xXxXx**

"Elphaba, how _could_ you?" My father stands in front of me, looking extremely displeased.

"I didn't mean to!" I protest feebly, cringing a little in spite of myself. "It was an accident! Honest!"

But his expression doesn't change. "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times – you are _never_ to display your… your _abilities_ in public!"

"I know, Papa. I'm sorry." I pause. Before I can help it, I'm rushing on, making one last effort to defend myself. "But Papa, if you'd only been there – you didn't hear what they said about – "

My words are cut off as he deals me a stinging blow across the face. I fall silent, staring up at him with wide eyes, not daring to move or hardly even to breathe. I bite the inside of my lip until I draw blood to keep the tears of pain and fear and anger at bay.

"I'm not interested in your excuses," he growls. "Now get upstairs to your room and stay there. Don't bother coming down for supper. I don't want to see you again for the rest of the night."

"Yes, Papa," I whisper. I turn and slink away before he can change his mind and do anything else.

Only once I'm safely behind my closed bedroom door do I let myself begin to cry. My cheek still smarts from where Papa hit me, and glancing in the mirror that hangs on my wall, I can already see a dark purplish bruise beginning to form. I will have to think of some way to explain it to Nessa – she always notices things like this, and although I know she knows that Papa sometimes hits me, I don't want her to have to think about it. It's my problem, not hers. Goodness knows she already has enough problems of her own because of me; she doesn't need me dumping more on top of them.

Despite the fact that the sun is still up, I change into my nightshift and get ready for bed. I crawl into bed and lay curled into a tiny little ball beneath the blankets, wishing that I could simply disappear. Only as I'm about to fall asleep do I remember that today was my birthday. I'm now ten years old. And I'm fairly certain that not a single person has noticed. My birthday has once again passed unmarked by anyone. I'm used to this by now, but for some reason, it still hurts a little.

"Happy birthday to me," I mutter sarcastically, pulling the covers over my head. I finally doze off and drift into a strange, vague dream involving brooms, bubbles, wands, and flying houses.

**xXxXx**

**Reviews are received with much rejoicifying and virtual baked goods.**


	3. Thirteen

**A/N: Chapter three arriveth! Not quite as angsty as the first two, but full of bitter irony. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Wicked, I would be rich and popular like a certain good witch. But I'm not that girl…**

**xXxXx**

I am lying flat on my back on my bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about nothing in particular, when I hear the familiar sound of my sister's wheelchair rolling down the hall towards my room. I sit up, and a moment later there is a knock at my door.

"Come in, Nessa," I call.

The door swings open, and she wheels herself into the room. "Hello, Elphaba."

"Hey," I reply. "Did you need something?"

Nessa smiles and rolls over to take my hand. "Oh, Elphaba, you're so good. Always worrying about me. No, for once, I'm actually here to _give_ you something instead of _asking_ for something."

"Give me something? What for?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten what today is, Sister!"

"Sorry, Nessa, but I guess I have," I tell her apologetically, deciding to play dumb. "Why don't you remind me?"

"Why, it's your birthday, silly!" she laughs, not catching on to my small lie.

"So it is," I agree with a careless shrug. I refuse to let her see how pathetically disappointed I am that, as usual, no one besides her has bothered to even so much as mention it. "What about it?"

"I got you a present!" she announces excitedly, turning to rummage in the large cloth pouch that hangs from the back of her wheelchair. Finally she pulls out a brightly-wrapped package and hands it to me proudly.

Touched that she has not only remembered my birthday, but was even thoughtful enough to get me something, I undo the paper around Nessa's gift. It is slightly the worse for wear from being bounced around in the pocket of her wheelchair all day, and the wrapping is a bit clumsy (she probably insisted on doing it all by herself; I know how stubborn she is!), but that doesn't matter to me. It's the fact that she cared enough to take the time to get me a present at all that makes it valuable.

Under the paper is the next book in my favorite series, which she knows I've been wanting for some time. "Thank you, Nessa! I love it!" I exclaim, truthfully, with a broad grin, and get up to pull her into a sisterly hug.

She squeezes me back tightly, radiating a smile of sheer delight at my enthusiastic acceptance of her present. "You're welcome. Happy birthday!"

After she's gone, I open the book and discover that she has written a message on the inside of the front cover. It reads:

_To Elphaba, the very best big sister anyone could ever have. Happy thirteenth birthday. Love always, your sister Nessa._

I run my fingers over the carefully-printed words with a smile. _The very best big sister anyone could ever have._ It's a comfort to know, with all the disappointment and failure I represent, that I've managed to do _some_thing right.

**xXxXx**

**Reviews make life and the amount of time I spend writing fan fiction worthwhile.**


	4. Sixteen

**A/N: I know Frex seems very out of character in this chapter compared to chapter two, but I figured that as long as Elphaba had been keeping her powers under control and taking proper care of Nessa, he would have no reason to be angry at her. Hopefully this makes up a bit for his cruelty in chapter two.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, the only spell I know from the Grimmerie is the one that turned Fiyero into the Scarecrow, so I'm still searching for a way to magick Greg, Winnie, and Steve into giving me the rights. Until then, I don't own it.**

**xXxXx**

I am immensely surprised when a servant appears at my bedroom door and tells me that my father wants to see me in his study right away. Wondering what I've done to warrant his disapproval _this_ time, I make my way downstairs and tentatively knock on the door.

"Enter," booms his voice from the other side.

I do as he directed, and see him sitting behind his desk. "You wanted to see me, Father?" I ask, approaching warily.

But when he looks up, there is no hint of anger or displeasure on his face. "Ah, Elphaba. Yes, come in." Startled by the lack of open hostility, I dare to take a step or two closer. Father studies me closely, as though seeing me for the first time in a long while. "So. Tomorrow you turn sixteen," he observes after several moments.

"Yes, sir," I agree, trying not to sound too surprised. I wasn't aware that he even knew when my birthday _is_, let alone how old I'll be.

"It seems like just yesterday you were a tiny little thing, and now here you are. Why, in just another couple of years you'll be a grown woman."

Biting back the urge to make a sarcastic comment about him missing my growing up because he simply chose not to pay attention to it, I merely nod, and wait for him to come to the point of the conversation.

"A young lady should not be going about in clothes more suitable for a girl several years younger," he continues, and then gestures to a stack of several largish rectangular boxes that are sitting beside his desk. "I've ordered you some new dresses. I hope you find them to your liking."

Never before have I had my father say that he hoped something was to my liking. I stare at him for a moment or two, stunned by the unexpected generosity. Nessa is usually the one who gets all the pretty new clothes. After a few clock-ticks, I finally manage to reply, "I'm sure they will be, Father. Thank you." He dismisses me with a nod, and I collect the boxes and head back upstairs to my room, still slightly amazed at what has just happened.

Upstairs, I take out the dresses and look them over, pleasantly surprised to find that they are, indeed, to my liking. I decide to change into one of them right now, and choose one made of an elegant midnight blue material. Once I've changed into the new dress, I examine myself in the mirror, feeling a bit like a child playing dress-up. The skirts are longer and heavier and the bodice more fitted than what I'm used to, but Father wants me to wear it, so I don't dare refuse.

After changing clothes, I go back downstairs. Father is just leaving his study as I come down, and he glances up and gives me a look of… could it be?… approval. "You look uncannily like your mother in that color," he tells me, sounding very surprised to discover the fact. I smile slightly at the compliment (at least, I _think_ it's a compliment; perhaps the first he's ever paid me) and move to continue down the stairs. But I stop when he speaks again. "You have her dark eyes, you know. Her bearing. Her smile. It's the strangest thing… Nessarose is a perfect blend of Melena and me. But you… you've always only taken after your mother. I've never understood it…" He shakes his head, unable to quite give adequate expression to his confusion, and walks off without another word.

I stand there looking after him for a moment before going on my own way. As I pass the open door to the parlor, I catch a glimpse of the portrait of my mother that hangs there. I can't be sure, but out of the corner of my eye I could swear I see the woman in the painting wink at me.

**xXxXx**

**If you do not review, Elphaba asks me to warn you politely that, in the words of another of my muses, "a disaster beyond your imagination will occur." (And an extra cookie to you if you can tell me who this other muse of mine is. ;D )**


	5. Nineteen

**A/N: I like this chapter. Maybe because birthday #19 is the one I'll be celebrating the day after tomorrow. The idea for Galinda's present to Elphaba isn't exactly original; I think I remember seeing it somewhere, but I was too lazy to go back through countless fanfics to find it. So if it's yours, please don't hurt me for using it. :D**

**Disclaimer: All I own is the novels, the Grimmerie, some green makeup, a pointy black hat, the soundtrack (OBC AND karaoke versions:D ), a special button that says "I Won the Wicked Lottery," and my imagination.**

**xXxXx**

Galinda flounces into our suite looking as though someone has deeply offended her. "Elphie," she trills reproachfully, "you didn't tell me that today's your birthday!"

"Your ability to state the obvious is truly unsurpassed," I remark dryly before returning my attention to the book I'm reading.

Galinda makes a face at my sarcastic comment. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Tell me why you didn't tell me!" she demands, plopping down in front of me on my bed so suddenly that the book is jounced from my hands.

I give her a look of annoyance, but decide that the easiest way to get her off my back will be to give in and answer her question. "I don't like to celebrate my birthday. Birthdays are for people who others are glad exist. And as far as I know, where I'm concerned, the number of people who are glad I exist is roughly zero."

"Oh, Elphie, don't talk like that," Galinda scolds. Then her voice softens. "_I'm_ glad you're here."

I can't help but smile at that. "Thanks, Galinda."

"I mean it, you know."

I nod. Then a new thought strikes me, and I ask, "How did you find out that it's my birthday?"

"Nessa told me at lunch today. You can't imagine how upset I was at you – you only left me one afternoon to find you a present!"

"Oh, Galinda, you really didn't have to do that…" I begin, embarrassed.

"I know. That's what makes me so nice." She reaches into her pocket to produce a small, flat square package wrapped in colored paper and holds it out to me, beaming. "Happy birthday, Elphie!"

I take it and open it cautiously, half afraid of what I might find inside. The last "gift" Galinda gave me was a tall, pointy black hat, and that was meant purely as a cruel joke. But I suppose it wasn't _all_ bad; after all, it's thanks to that hat that we're friends now. So, deciding that this time I can trust her generosity, I finish tearing off the paper and lift the lid of the little box inside. I can't hold in a gasp of awe. Lying there on a cushion of fabric is a beautiful bracelet, set with alternating emeralds and rose quartz.

I take the bracelet out gently and hold it up to the light, watching the stones sparkle. "Galinda… I really don't know what to say…" I manage after a moment.

"I'm glad you like it." She takes it from me and carefully fixes it on my wrist. "Pink goes good with green," she reminds me with a smile, giving my hand a squeeze.

"Yes," I agree, smiling back. I am not an overly affectionate person as a rule, but I surprise us both when I pull Galinda into a quick hug. "Yes, it does."

**xXxXx**

**Reviews make Elphie happy. And happy Elphie means more updates for you all.**


	6. Twenty One

**A/N: Shameless quoting of my favorite Wicked song ahead. You have been warned.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not that girl…**

**xXxXx**

I balance my broom on the edge of the wind, leaning forward slightly, coaxing it higher, faster, farther. There is nothing in this world quite like the feeling of flying. The rush is at least as addicting as any drug. Even after almost two years, it still sends thrills of excitement through me. It's one of the few real pleasures I have now. And why shouldn't I enjoy myself a little, today of all days?

Turning twenty-one feels significant somehow. It's always seemed to me that this is the age when people really start to make the transition into adulthood. But yet, now that I've reached it, I realize that I feel no different than I did at nineteen or twenty. Perhaps it's because I was forced to grow up rather abruptly some time ago. Going from being a semi-normal college student to a wanted fugitive in the space of five minutes will do that to you, I suppose.

Almost no one would suspect that the Wicked Witch of the West, the so-called enemy of all of Oz, is only twenty-one, hardly more than a girl. If I'd stayed behind with Glinda that day, I'd be graduating from Shiz in just a few months with her and Boq and Fiyero. And after that… who knows? I used to have all these fantastic dreams of what I would have done with the rest of my life, but it's hard for me to even remember them anymore, much less picture them coming true. The harsh glare of reality has weathered them until they are little more than faded remnants, cruel reminders of a future that will never be.

_Ev'ry so often we long to steal to the land of What-Might-Have-Been… but that doesn't soften the ache we feel when reality sets back in…_

I can't help but wonder what my life would be like now if that day in the Emerald City and my meeting with the Wizard had turned out differently. If I had chosen to stay and work for him instead of running away after I discovered what he really is. Would he have kept his promise to proclaim my worth to all of Oz? Would I have gotten the cheers and adoration that now accompany Glinda wherever she goes? If I had taken that path, would I be Elphaba the Excellent today instead of the Wicked Witch of the West?

Without warning, a scrap of a memory from that day tears itself loose, and I wince involuntarily as once again I hear Glinda's voice desperately pleading with me to reconsider my decision to flee.

_Elphie… just say you're sorry… before it's too late! You can still be with the Wizard, what you've worked and waited for… You can have all you ever wanted…_

_I know. But I don't want it… no… I __can't__ want it anymore…_

I know now that I did the right thing that day, the only thing I could really have done. I would never have been able to go back to the Wizard after what I had learned. I would have been living a lie, and sooner or later it would have torn me apart from the inside out. By choosing this way I've managed to remain true to myself, even if it cost me everything and everyone I ever cared about. So be it. At least my conscience is clear.

_And if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free…_

Smiling a little to myself, I urge my broom to still greater speed. My cape streams out behind me, and I reach up with one hand to tug my pointy black hat more firmly down onto my head. And soon my regrets are once again forgotten, lost, if only temporarily, in the sheer exhilaration of flight. Up here in the endless sky, with the world quite literally at my feet, I am untouchable, unstoppable, unlimited.

I can defy gravity.

_And nobody in all of Oz… no Wizard that there is or was… is ever gonna bring… me… down!_

**xXxXx**

**Reviews make very good early birthday presents.**


	7. Twenty Four

**A/N: IT'S MY BIRTHDAY:D**

**Wow, the last chapter already! I can't believe it! First of all, I just want to take a moment to say one HUGE, ENORMOUS "thank you!" to everyone who has read and/or reviewed this story. You all have absolutely blown me away with your response – it has so far exceeded my expectations, it's in another galaxy or something! I mean, if you go purely by average number of reviews per chapter, this is my most successful story yet! I adore you all!**

**Anyhow, here, as promised, is the Fiyeraba chapter. And let me tell you, it's pretty much the fan fiction equivalent of pure, undiluted sugar. Seriously – I don't know if it's even legal to try and cram so much fluff into one chapter. Oh, yes, a couple of brief points. First of all, Fiyero is obviously no longer the Scarecrow. (Well, clearly, since they have a daughter… ;D ) And secondly, yes, I decided that they could have photographs in Oz. I figured the Wizard brought the technology of cameras with him.**

**Finally, an extra-special "thank you!" goes to my friend Lauren, a.k.a. kaliawai512, for the second half of this chapter. I was stuck in a mental ditch, and she pulled me out. And I would like to wish a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Meltalviel and Li'l Miss Woolworth Pearls, who both mentioned in their reviews that they share my special day!**

**Disclaimer: Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me! If I only owned Wicked, how happy I'd be!**

**xXxXx**

I don't realize I'm awake until I recognize the sound of soft, plaintive wails coming from the cradle near the bed. But once my brain registers the noise, I'm fully alert in an instant. From the tone and volume of the cries, I can tell that they haven't been going on for very long. Being careful not to disturb Fiyero, who is asleep beside me, I quietly slip out of bed and go over to pick up our newborn daughter.

The baby's crying lessens as I cradle her close, rocking her gently, and soon she calms enough to peer silently up at me with eyes the same brilliant sapphire blue as her father's. I begin to hum softly, and soon she has fallen back to sleep, nestled in my arms. Running my fingers over the downy wisps of hair that cover her head, which are as black as my own ebony locks, I press my lips briefly to her forehead before crossing the room to the window, still holding her, to watch the sunrise.

I smile when I feel a familiar pair of warm, strong arms encircle me from behind, pulling me close, and turn to relax against Fiyero as he holds me. "Good morning," he says quietly.

"'Morning," I reply. "I didn't mean to wake you, but Ayana was starting to fuss."

"It's all right," he assures me. Then his gaze drifts to the baby in my arms, and he reaches down to trace one finger along her cheek. "I still can't believe she's really here."

"I know." I can't help the smile that spreads across my face as I let my eyes trail over our daughter's tiny, perfect features. "She's beautiful, isn't she, Fiyero?"

"Mmm," he murmurs in agreement with a smile of his own. "Just like her mother."

My smile widens at his words, and I lay Ayana back in her cradle and lean up to kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer. When we ease apart, I reach up and tenderly brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead, then lay my head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. I can't ever seem to get enough of the feeling of him holding me, especially after everything we went through to end up together. When I'm in his arms, I never have to be anything other than what I am. I'm safe, accepted… I belong. And there aren't even words to describe how incredibly much that means to me.

After a few moments, he leans down to speak into my ear. "You know what today is, don't you?"

"Fiyero, you know perfectly well how I feel about my birthday," I protest halfheartedly, knowing that nothing I say is going to dissuade him, and not really minding. To be honest, I love how he always treats me like a princess.

"I know," he agrees cheerfully. "And _you_ know perfectly well that no matter what you say, I'm not going to just give up and let you forget about it." He pulls away slightly for a moment and hands me a smallish, flat rectangular package. "Happy birthday, love."

I give him a look of mild annoyance, but then relent enough to let my expression relax into a small smile and take the gift from him. "Thanks."

When I open it, I can't help my small gasp of surprise. It's an old photograph of mine – a picture of me, Fiyero, Glinda, Boq, and Nessa when we were at Shiz, taken at a small party they threw for me when I found out that I got to meet the Wizard – that has sat propped rather unceremoniously on the mantle over the fireplace for as long as we've lived here. Only now it resides in a beautifully detailed wooden frame that I know at once he has carved himself. I've been saying recently that I'd like to find something nicer to do with it, and I'm very touched that he remembered and did something about it.

"Oh, Fiyero, it's perfect," I tell him, my smile growing as I wrap my arms around him again. "I love it."

"I'm glad." He cups my cheek with one hand and leans down to press his lips briefly to mine. We stay like that for a moment or two after we pull gently apart, neither of us speaking, just holding each other.

Finally I break the silence. "But you know, darling, you've already given me something even better than this."

"Oh, really? What would that be?" Fiyero wonders.

In response, I cuddle closer to him and brush a soft kiss against his cheek. "Yourself. Just being with you, having you hold me like this… this is the best birthday gift I can imagine."

He smiles and pulls me closer. "Elphaba, I'll be here with you to hold you as long as you're mine to hold."

"But Fiyero, you know I'll always be yours."

"So I'll always be here with you."

"I love you, Fiyero."

"And I love you."

_Happy birthday to me_, I think with a smile as he leans down to steal another kiss before heading outside to bring in more firewood. And for once, I discover to my surprise that it's true.

**xXxXx**

**Review and make me a very happy birthday girl:D**


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